


Ritual Killing

by Vesper_Vigil



Series: DC Diaries [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-02 02:06:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19189723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesper_Vigil/pseuds/Vesper_Vigil
Summary: Alice Whitmore lives a very mundane and typical life in DC.  She has a roommate, her best friend is a dog, and her job as a bond agent means that life doesn't get too boring.  However, there is one thing about Alice that is a little out of the ordinary.  She's a witch.  And those baddies that she brings in?  They're monsters and evil spirits.  Join Alice as she explores the other side to our world where demons run free and ghosts are just part of her daily life.  Tag along as she goes after a certain evil spirit who thinks ritual killing is the next best thing and for some reason has Alice on their list of things to do.  The life of a modern day witch is not for the faint of heart, but Alice does her best and with help from her friends in the magik world, there's not much she can't do.





	1. Chapter 1

Some people say that DC is a crowded, loud, and noisy city full of crowds of people and tourists. But when you’re running through downtown sopping wet with a steak in one hand and only one shoe, the crowd parts quite easily and you’re left to go on your merry way. Seriously. You might get some weird glances and some nasty comments, but who cares about that when you’re free to go wherever the hell you want with no interruption?

Currently, I was racing down the sidewalk following a head of black hair when I saw it disappear down the steps to the nearest metro station. It was close to 5:00 pm, which meant the height of rush hour in the city. Hundreds of people were walking down the same flight of stairs I had seen the black haired woman run down to board the metro and go home after a long day of work. There was no way I was going to be able to keep up with my target at this rate. But remember. I had the meat.

I began to swing the steak around my head like a giant beefy lasso, screaming as I did so.

“Make way! Coming through! Move it, unless you want 20 oz of New York’s finest upside your head!”

Unsurprisingly, the crowd before me parted like the Red Sea with a chorus of surprised gasps and flashes as phones were whipped out to document the crazy lady with the steak running by. I didn’t care as I continued waving my meat and hollering down the stairs to the metro. I reached the bottom of the steps and looked in time to see a petite woman dressed all in black vault over the ticket stand to continue running onto the platform. Ignoring the angry shouts from the man in the ticket booth, I too leapt over the machines, losing my remaining shoe in the process. Oh well. At least I had even footing now.

“Stop in the name of the Black Coven!”

My voice sounded even louder in the confined cement tube that was the station. To my right, several metro cars shot past and blew my hair straight into my mouth. I violently spat them out. In front of me, the woman slowed slightly, but still continued her desperado attempt. She was almost to the end of the platform, where a tiled wall separated the two tunnels on either side. Fed up with all the running I’d done today and upset that I’d lost my good pair of sneakers, I did what any other rational person have done. I launched my steak at her. 

I’d built up a whole lot of momentum from swinging the steak around my head, and watched in awe as I let it go and it sailed across the platform at quite an impressive speed and arc. It zoomed over the heads of everyone else waiting for their metro and nailed the blackhaired woman squarely in the back of the head. She went down like a sack of bricks.  
I stopped running and put both hands on my knees to catch a quick breather. I shivered as another passing metro gusted my wet clothes against my skin, and I made a mental note to next time pack waterproof attire and to start going to the gym. Boy, was I out of shape.

Having caught my breath, I straightened and began to make my way to my discarded meat its unfortunate victim. I was no longer the crazy woman with the steak, but I was still wet and nasty, so the crowd parted no problem and before long I was standing over the woman. Both her dark eyes were open and fixed on the steak with an uncanny focus. She lay on her side, hands splayed in front of her with the steak sitting right in front of her face. The woman wasn’t even dazed and I couldn’t see any bruises forming.

I acted fast and pulled a pair of silver handcuffs from my pocket and quickly slapped them onto the woman’s wrists. She didn’t resist as I did so, but as soon as I locked the second cuff, her hand shot out and grabbed the piece of meat. Almost in a frenzy, she shot upright and gripped the steak close to her chest, looking me straight in the eye.

“Mine. That was a dirty trick, witchling.” She hissed.

I simply nodded, grabbed the woman’s shoulders and began to escort her back out of the metro and into the noisy din of the city. People were still staring, but honestly, I would have too.

“Uh huh.” I said. “But it got the job done, didn’t it. Now you get to answer to the Black Coven and no longer be a problem of mine.”

Her dark eyes widened, and she clutched the steak even harder. We reached the top of the steps and I guided her to the side of the street where a nondescript black vehicle was waiting. Again, she didn’t resist as I opened the door and unceremoniously shoved her into the back seat. I exchanged a few words with the driver, and watched as the car zipped back into traffic and disappeared around the corner.

Ok. I guess there are some things that need explaining here. When I say the word ‘witch’, what image comes to mind? Some gnarled old lady with warts all over her face, a pointy black hat on her head, and a broomstick in hand? Some old hag with a black cat and a cauldron collection living in some shack in the middle of the woods? I’ll have you know that none of those stereotypes apply to me. I prefer baseball caps to the pointed black kind anyday, and my black dog’s name is Dandy, thank you very much. My name is Alice Renee Agatha Whitmore, and I myself am a witch. 

What just happened here? That’s my job. I guess you could call me a bond agent of sorts. Mostly, I get a heads up on all the baddies in the DC area that need to be brought in, and I do just that. I bring them in. But as to where I bring them in gets a little tricky and needs a little more explaining before I get too far.

Most people have a hard time believing that magik exists. They have an even harder time believing that there are beings out there that can control magik and use it to their advantage. But, it’s true! We magik users have been here for thousands of years and if we’re lucky and don’t kill ourselves or each other, we’ll be here for thousands more.

There are many different types of magik and magik users. But for me and my fellow witches, our magik dates back to egyptian times. Our brand of magik rose from the hot, eastern sun and the glowing sands of the desert. Those gods and monsters you see in the pyramids and in hieroglyphs all over the place? They’re my ancestors- fellow witches. And before you can say that there are no such things as witches and wizards and that I’m entirely off my rocker, I’ll tell you that you’re half right. Wizards don’t exists. Beings of the male variety aren’t strong enough to carry magik in their blood. Figures. 

But in all honesty and sincerity, magik truly does exist all over the world in every kind of variety. In the US, witches mostly held power and sway. Ruled by different covens, the denizens of the American mag c scene answer to the governing witch bodies instead of the human government. The Black Coven is the main one based somewhere in South Carolina, and no. We didn’t name it the Black Coven because we’re a bunch of angsty goths. In egypt, the traditional colors of good and evil are black and red, respectively. Black is the color of good soil- full of nutrients and minerals that allow plants to grow in abundance. Red soil is devoid of all life and cannot grow anything. 

So, somewhere along our history, the Black Coven was formed as a good governing body for the new world. And while it may have some pretty traditional and old ways of doing things, the Black Coven does a pretty good job with all the shit it has to put up with. Like the Red Coven. Legit everything the Black Coven is, the Red Coven is just the evil version. How cliche, right?

Anyway, as a member of the Black Coven, there are certain jobs that I as a witch have to fulfill sometime in my long life. And currently, I’m fulfilling them as a bond agent of sorts. Officially, my job title is something along the lines of Magistrate, but I’ve also been called many other nasty names by those who I bring in. And that’s exactly what had just happened.

The blackhaired woman I’d just nabbed was a particular harpie named Jordan Waters. Harpies are common creatures I deal with on a daily basis. They’re half human, and half vulture. They’re beings from the Cheval, which I guess is our version of the underworld. They cross over to our world quite often, and wreak havoc whenever they do. You see, they have a nasty habit of grabbing whatever food is placed in front of them. It’s something about a curse from long ago, but they just can’t help it. And that was why I’d equipped myself with a nice steak before I’d gone to apprehend Ms. Waters earlier today. She couldn’t help herself, and I’d just made a little money off her kleptomaniac tendencies. 

Magistrates didn’t make too much money to the side, so witches like me often held a couple other jobs. And looking down at my watch as the black car with Jordan disappeared in traffic, I realized that I was almost late for my other job. If I was so much as five minutes late, Hannah was going to have my head. So, checking to see if my shoes were tied, realizing that didn’t matter as I had lost them both, I took off down the sidewalk at a run. The life of a witch is nothing if not exciting.


	2. Chapter 2

So say that I cut it close was an understatement. No sooner then I had slammed the door to the establishment open and had thrown myself inside did a little paper airplane ding me right in the forehead. A little winded and a little miffed that I’d been lowkey assaulted, I grabbed the tiny assailant and aggressively unfolded it. As soon as the last crease was smoothed out, the paper, which I could now see was a scroll, slipped from my hand to hover a couple inches from my face. As I watched, jet black ink began to flow across the parchment in bold, vigorous strokes. Words appeared one after the other in rapid succession, almost as if they were being written in time with someone speaking. 

No no! That’s the wrong tincture, you imbecile! The green one. The green one! Cauldron boil me, you really are incompitant.

I knew who had sent the message and knew they were further back in the building I had just entered. In fact, I could hear their rant from where I stood and knew that they hadn’t yet addressed me. I waited till the voice and scrawls addressed me before I even dared speak. Hannah was a perfectionist and a little obsessive on the best of days, and today didn’t necessarily sound like one of those... 

Alice! The voice finally seemed to register that I had received their Zip. Where the hell are you? You’re late for your shift. For every minute you are late, I will kill you.

I sighed. Hannah certainly had a flare for dramatics. In the witchling world, Zips are how we communicate long distances. Find any manner of stationary, mutter a few syllables, and watch as the paper folds itself into a crisp little airplane and shoots off to your intended target. Whatever you speak will appear on the scroll, and bam! Instant messaging. 

Now I know what you’re thinking, and yes. Cell phones would be so much easier. But have you ever tried teaching your grandparents how technology works? Well, imagine that but multiply it by 100. Some witches have been around since the 1200’s, and it’s simply easier and less frustrating to us all to stick to the tried and true methods then try to explain to Sister Agnus what wifi is.

If you’re concerned that someone might intercept your message, the paper will burst into flame if anyone but the person it’s meant for tries to read it. And, if you’re worried what mortals might think if they see hundreds of paper airplanes just zipping around town, the confuscate, which is our version of a glamour or shielding charm, will make sure that the mortals see nothing but song birds. Really, Zips are quick, easy, efficient, and foolproof. They’re awesome. 

I reached up and crumpled the scroll, tossing the neat ball over my left shoulder. It immediately disintegrated into a little puff of red smoke. See? There isn’t even paper waste! Witches- saving one tree at a time. 

“Turn around, love. I just got in.” I called to the back of the store.

I let the door swing shut behind me and I made my way further in to the small shop. With aged wooden floors, walls covered with window panes, and small, scattered tables complete with chairs, the small but lively tavern I sometimes worked at was a little hole in the wall for witches and other magik folk to come in and escape from the mortal world, if even for a little bit. Between Hannah and I, we managed and ran the little business together rather well. Well enough to create some source of steady income for the both of us.

Hannah was a Kitchen Witch. She specialized in the magik concerned with potions, tinctures, brews, tonics, all that kind of stuff. Feeling a little run down and low on energy? Try ordering the ‘Get-up-and-go-go juice’ off our menu. Hannah makes it special every morning and you won’t believe how many orders we get before 8:00 am. Honestly, even I can’t start my day without a little mug. But Hannah’s skill set definitely helps and dare I say carries our small business. My own specialties with charms and invocations don’t really do jack-squat in a setting like this. But I try my best.

As I made my way further back, I skirt around tables and have to duck a couple times to avoid several faeries who were flitting back and forth. I finally reached the main counter, barstools lining one end, while a pastry window and cash register take up the other. Behind it, a willowy woman with wispy, straw-colored hair tied back in a bandana and dark eyes hidden behind round spectacles waves a spoon at several small figures bustling around her. 

“All y’all are useless. I’ll deal with the elixir. You go and just, just do something else!”

Hannah’s voice was a shrill, strained whisper to keep her conversation from her patrons, but heads did turn her way all the same. It wasn’t the goblins’ fault that they could only follow the simplest directions, but Hannah wasn’t in the mood to comprehend or understand that. She looked murderous wielding a big, wooden spoon. Suddenly, she turned her eyes to me and they widened comically. She brought the spoon down to eye level so it was aimed directly at my face.

“You!”

I was almost scared that some nasty hex was going to fly out the end of the cooking utensil and cause me to turn green or speak in rhymes for the rest of day. Yes. It has happened before.

“You’re late. Do you know what I’ve had to do while you weren’t here? Everything! Now get your apron on and take charge of these utter gremlins. I have a crystal sale I have to be at in 30 minutes and it’s your turn to man the register. Alice, I swear to Cheval that you’re going to be the death of me.”

Hannah drops the spoon down to her side and goes about undoing the brown apron from around her waist. I pass one last table before I duck under the counter and come up besides Hannah, careful not to knock any of the goblins over. They are grumbled as they were jostled a little.

“Sorry, Han. I had some business down in the city I had to clear up first.”

I was met with a little snort, and I didn’t have to look to know that my associate didn’t care about my struggles today. I tugged my jeans a little lower to hide the fact that I wasn’t wearing any shoes. The wooden floor was chilled under my bare feet, and I wanted nothing more than to dash upstairs and grab my slippers. 

Having finished taking off her apron and folding it neatly, Hannah placed it under the counter and stood to fluff out the multi-patterned dress she was wearing. She adjusted her gasses and turned to face me. 

“I probably won’t be back before closing, so don’t worry about waiting up to lock up. I left the tinctures in the back cupboard, and you know how to mix the other herbs.” 

Hannah glanced at her watch, which didn’t have any numbers on it, only several planets lazily orbiting a single diamond in the center of the face. She cursed under her breath, saying something about Sister Dorthea beating her to the sale, and she was gone just like that. No smoke, no mist, no nothing. Only, a little dandelion sprouting between the floorboards of where she had been standing. Sighing, I stooped to pluck the flower from the ground and tossed it over my left shoulder. It evaporated in a flash of red smoke.

I shooed several goblins away from between my feet and set about reorganizing the counter, clearing empty dishes and refilling the glasses of the various customers who sat at the bar. Closing would be in about 2 hours, and already the space was starting to thin out with the various magik folk who had come for a quick bite or a drink. Things ran smoothly enough, and I managed to strongarm the goblins into a few tasks that made my life easier. Right as I was about to close up the register for the night, there was a dull thud from above and a little plume of plaster dust rained down from above, settling on my hair and shoulders. The goblins didn’t notice as they shoved the last customer, an ancient, hunched old witch who resembled a croissant more closely than a person with her shape, out the door. 

I groaned. I’d forgotten Jamie was back in town. Hannah was kind enough to let me rent out a room above the tavern, and I stayed there with monetary help from my flatmate Jamie. Most days, we got along pretty well. But sometimes, well… Jamie could be a lot to handle on someday. I muttered a few words and the register locked with a little click. I yanked my apron off and balled it up, tossing it under the counter next to Hannah’s meticulously folded one. It was time for me to deal with my roommate.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I intend for this work to be part of a series detailing Alice's escapades with the magik world in DC, but we'll see how far we get. This work is also available on wattpad under the same name, and I hope all y'all enjoy this story as much as I do. Love you guys and stay tuned for more!


End file.
